Blog Series - They Made Me Question My Own Body

Medical Gaslighting

There is something incredibly damaging about being sick and being told you're not.

Not directly.

Not always.

Sometimes it's subtle.

A raised eyebrow.

A quick dismissal.

A suggestion that your symptoms are probably stress.

A doctor telling you your results are “normal” when you know your body isn't.

And eventually, you start wondering:

“Am I imagining this?”

That question can fuck with your head.

Because when you are already exhausted, already in pain, already trying to survive your own body, the last thing you need is to start questioning whether you can trust yourself.

When “It's Just Stress” Becomes the Answer

Stress can affect the body.

Anxiety can cause physical symptoms.

Mental health absolutely matters.

But there is a massive difference between considering those things as part of the picture and using them as a reason to stop looking.

Sometimes “it's stress” becomes the convenient full stop.

And you're left thinking:

• But what if it isn't?

• What if something else is happening?

• What if the symptoms are real even though the cause hasn't been found yet?

• What if the tests haven't caught everything?

• What if the answer simply hasn't been found?

“We can't find anything” does not automatically mean “there is nothing wrong.”

The Damage Isn't Just Physical

Medical gaslighting doesn't just affect your healthcare.

It can change your relationship with yourself.

• You start second-guessing every symptom.

• You downplay how bad things are.

• You stop mentioning certain things because you don't want to sound dramatic.

• You tell yourself to push through.

• You apologise for taking up time.

• You become scared of being labelled difficult.

And slowly.

you become your own biggest dismissive voice.

You start saying the things other people have said to you.

• Maybe I'm overreacting.

• Maybe I'm too sensitive.

• Maybe I should just get on with it.

• Maybe everyone else is right.

That is the part that hurts.

Because eventually the person you stop believing is yourself.

But I Know What I Live With

I don't expect every healthcare professional to have every answer.

I don't expect every test to immediately reveal what's happening.

I don't expect medicine to be perfect.

But I do expect to be listened to.

I expect questions to be taken seriously.

I expect my concerns to be explored.

And I expect to have a voice in decisions about my own body.

Because I am the one living with this.

Not for an hour.

Not during an appointment.

Every fucking day.

I know what my body feels like when something changes.

I know when something isn't my normal.

And I am allowed to say that.

I Had to Learn Not to Abandon Myself

For a long time, I thought advocating for myself meant being difficult.

Now I see it differently.

It means respecting myself.

It means asking:

What else could this be?

What are we ruling out?

What happens next?

What options do I have?

Can you explain that again?

It means saying:

“I don't understand.”

“I'm not comfortable with that.”

“Something has changed.”

“I don't feel like we're finished looking for answers.”

And if I need another opinion?

I'll get one.

Not because I think I know more than the professionals.

Because I know my experience matters too.

To Anyone Who Has Been Made to Doubt Themselves

Maybe you've been told it's all in your head.

Maybe you've been told you're anxious.

Maybe you've been told your tests are normal.

Maybe you've heard “there's nothing we can do.”

Maybe you've walked out of an appointment and cried in the car because you felt completely invisible.

Please hear this:

You are not crazy for wanting answers.

You are not difficult for asking questions.

You are not dramatic for knowing your body has changed.

And you are not weak because you need help.

You can respect medical professionals while still questioning something that doesn't make sense to you.

You can listen to advice without surrendering your own voice.

You can seek another opinion.

You can ask for clarification.

You can say, “I don't feel heard.”

But Don't Let the Fight Consume You

There is another side to advocacy that we don't talk about enough.

You shouldn't have to spend every ounce of energy fighting.

Sometimes you need someone beside you.

Take a support person.

Write things down.

Prepare your questions.

Ask someone you trust to help you remember what was said.

Give yourself permission to rest afterwards.

And remember:

You are allowed to be more than your medical history.

Your life cannot become one endless search for what's wrong with you.

There has to be room for what's right too.

For laughter.

For connection.

For nature.

For creativity.

For relationships.

For dreams.

For ordinary beautiful moments.

I Choose to Believe Myself

I can't control whether every person believes me.

I can't control whether every test finds an answer.

I can't control whether someone understands what it feels like to live inside my body.

But I can control whether I abandon myself.

And I refuse to.

I will keep asking questions.

I will keep learning.

I will keep advocating.

I will listen to professionals.

But I will also listen to me.

Because my body is not a problem I need to apologise for.

My pain isn't an inconvenience.

My experience isn't imaginary simply because someone else can't see it.

And my voice does not become less valid because someone failed to hear it.

Reflection

Ask yourself:

Where have I stopped trusting myself?

What symptoms have I minimised?

What have I been too afraid to say?

Where have I accepted “that's just how it is” when something inside me knows there is more to explore?

And perhaps the biggest question:

What would change if I believed myself again?

You don't have to become angry.

You don't have to become confrontational.

You don't have to know all the answers.

You simply have to stop disappearing from the conversation about your own body.

Your voice belongs there.

And sometimes healing begins with believing yourself enough to use it.